They dwelt upon impersonal topics so long as Lawson remained; but he, being ill at ease, hastened with his coffee, and soon made excuse to withdraw, leaving them alone. For a moment they faced each other, and then, with a wistful cadence in his voice, Curtis said, "Dear girl, it's hard to say good-bye now, just when I have found you, but I must return at once." "Oh, must you? Can't you wait till we go--this afternoon?" "No; I must be the first to carry this dreadful news to my people." "You are right, of course; but I'll miss you so, and you need me. Say you need me!" "Need you! Of course I do; but you cannot stay with me and I cannot go with you." "I know, I know!" she sighed, resignedly. "But it hurts all the same." "This tumult will die out soon," he went on, in the effort to comfort her, "and then I can come on to Washington for a visit. I warn you I've lost all my scruples; seventeen hundred million dollars are as straws in my path, now that I know you really care for me." "I don't feel rich now; I feel very poor. You must come to Washington soon." "I warn you that when I come I will ask hard things of you!" He rose and his face darkened. "But my duty calls!" She came to him and yielded herself to his embrace. "My queenly, beautiful girl! It is sweet to have you here in my arms; but I _must_ say good-bye--good-bye." In spite of his words he held her till she, with an instinctive movement, pushed from his arms. "Go--go quick!" she exclaimed, in a low, imperative voice. Not staying to wonder at the meaning of her strange dismissal, he turned and left the room without looking back. Only after he had helped Calvin into the wagon, and had taken his seat beside him, did the young soldier lift his eyes in search of her face at the window. She was looking down upon him, tears were on her cheeks, but she blew a kiss from her finger-tips, not caring if all the world were there to see. XXXIV SEED-TIME As Lawson predicted, the very violence of this outburst of racial hatred was its cure. A reaction set in. The leaders of Brisbane's party, with loud shouts, ordered their harriers back to their lairs, while the great leader himself, oblivious to daylight or to darkness, was hurried home to Washington. The Tetongs returned to their camps and hay-making, the troops drilled peacefully each afternoon in the broiling heat, while Curtis bent to his work again with a desperate sort of energy, as if by so doing he could shorten the long, hot days, which seemed well-nigh interminable after the passing of Elsie and her friends. In a letter announcing their safe arrival in Washington, Elsie said: